Hecatoncheires
un jour je serai de retour près de toi
Original poster
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FOLKLORE MEMBER
Re: Iwaku SHATTERED
[size=+1]The populace of Rift Town does not realise something is wrong until it is much too late.
People hear the engines first, a rare sound in this day and age. From the sky the metallic-humming comes, and those with more acute hearing take notice. A few Shapeshifter Tribesmens' ears perk up and they look to the skies, searching for the source. A young child begins to wail, the alien sound reaching his ears and terrifying him.
He is right to be so afraid.
The guards don't notice them until they're almost over the town. By the time they do, it's too late to get the defence-guns into position. It's too late for just about any form of resistance. Not that they don't try; when the fate that is about to befall Rift Town dawns upon it's defenders they rush to take up arms. Ultimately, though, it's a futile effort. It is not a battle. To call it a battle would imply the town has a chance.
They burn the docks first. Cut off any chance of escape. Brutal. Efficient. The airships docked in Rift Town go up in flames, the gases that keep them aloft adding to the chaos as they ignite and burst into vast explosions that light up the afternoon sky. Smoke begins to fill the air, thick and acrid. Choking. People die from the fires, from the explosions, from the smoke.
They're the lucky ones.
Now you can see their ships through the haze of destruction; vast, ugly monstrosities of rusting steel armoured against threats, their ancient engines spewing smog down into the streets. Their guns lay down hellfire upon the town, killing and destroying indiscriminately. In the carnage the town begins it's death-throes, the populace desperately seeking a means of escape.
And then the first of them come down.
The roof of The Runaway is torn open by one of their landing crafts, debris and ruins scattering down upon the brawling patrons. Several die instantly, or else remain trapped under the wreckage until they finally expire, hours or even days later. Karsikan's armour protects him from the brunt of this unexpected assault, though only just, and Cyanide is fortunate enough to be on the opposite side of the building, getting to cover in time. Those who survive pull themselves to their feet, brush off the dust and shrapnel...
...just in time for their entrance.
Their forms are genderless, figures hidden beneath layers of armour and padding, their faces hidden under gas-masks. They wield everything from automatic weaponry to old shovels and kitchen blades grafted to their hands, falling upon the patrons with unmatched ferocity. Most of the survivors are dead within seconds, torn apart by their attackers. Many more are dragged off, hauled out of the broken doors and into the burning streets.
Some manage to fight back, though.
The barman of The Runaway snatches up his shotgun and unloads it into the nearest gas-masked assailant, roaring abuse all the while. The remaining Shapeshifter bouncers battle their way out of the ruined bar, their ferocity almost matching that of their attackers.
And all the while, underneath their masks, the mysterious attackers are laughing.
They laugh as they tear the patrons of the bar to pieces. They laugh as they impale a few unfortunates on the broken support beams, standing back to watch their victims slowly choke to death on their own blood. They laugh as they steal people away to taken back up to the ships floating above the dying Rift Town. Even the one shot by the barman wheezes out a feeble chuckle before breathing it's last.
All across Rift Town, they are laughing as they slaughter and kidnap the populace. In the marketplace Sakura, XC and Orion's meeting is cut short by the appearance of one of their airships overhead, dozens of them streaming down to attack and destroy. Marvin, Jake and Spears watch two of their attack vessels come crashing into the nearby slums, leaving wide paths of chaos and rubble in their wake.
The Collectors have arrived.
[/size]
[size=+5]CHAPTER TWO[/size]
[size=+3]THE FLIGHT[/size]
[size=+1]"Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with.
Some men just want to watch the world burn."[/size]
[size=+2]- The Dark Knight[/size]
[size=+3]THE FLIGHT[/size]
[size=+1]"Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with.
Some men just want to watch the world burn."[/size]
[size=+2]- The Dark Knight[/size]
[size=+1]The populace of Rift Town does not realise something is wrong until it is much too late.
People hear the engines first, a rare sound in this day and age. From the sky the metallic-humming comes, and those with more acute hearing take notice. A few Shapeshifter Tribesmens' ears perk up and they look to the skies, searching for the source. A young child begins to wail, the alien sound reaching his ears and terrifying him.
He is right to be so afraid.
The guards don't notice them until they're almost over the town. By the time they do, it's too late to get the defence-guns into position. It's too late for just about any form of resistance. Not that they don't try; when the fate that is about to befall Rift Town dawns upon it's defenders they rush to take up arms. Ultimately, though, it's a futile effort. It is not a battle. To call it a battle would imply the town has a chance.
They burn the docks first. Cut off any chance of escape. Brutal. Efficient. The airships docked in Rift Town go up in flames, the gases that keep them aloft adding to the chaos as they ignite and burst into vast explosions that light up the afternoon sky. Smoke begins to fill the air, thick and acrid. Choking. People die from the fires, from the explosions, from the smoke.
They're the lucky ones.
Now you can see their ships through the haze of destruction; vast, ugly monstrosities of rusting steel armoured against threats, their ancient engines spewing smog down into the streets. Their guns lay down hellfire upon the town, killing and destroying indiscriminately. In the carnage the town begins it's death-throes, the populace desperately seeking a means of escape.
And then the first of them come down.
The roof of The Runaway is torn open by one of their landing crafts, debris and ruins scattering down upon the brawling patrons. Several die instantly, or else remain trapped under the wreckage until they finally expire, hours or even days later. Karsikan's armour protects him from the brunt of this unexpected assault, though only just, and Cyanide is fortunate enough to be on the opposite side of the building, getting to cover in time. Those who survive pull themselves to their feet, brush off the dust and shrapnel...
...just in time for their entrance.
Their forms are genderless, figures hidden beneath layers of armour and padding, their faces hidden under gas-masks. They wield everything from automatic weaponry to old shovels and kitchen blades grafted to their hands, falling upon the patrons with unmatched ferocity. Most of the survivors are dead within seconds, torn apart by their attackers. Many more are dragged off, hauled out of the broken doors and into the burning streets.
Some manage to fight back, though.
The barman of The Runaway snatches up his shotgun and unloads it into the nearest gas-masked assailant, roaring abuse all the while. The remaining Shapeshifter bouncers battle their way out of the ruined bar, their ferocity almost matching that of their attackers.
And all the while, underneath their masks, the mysterious attackers are laughing.
They laugh as they tear the patrons of the bar to pieces. They laugh as they impale a few unfortunates on the broken support beams, standing back to watch their victims slowly choke to death on their own blood. They laugh as they steal people away to taken back up to the ships floating above the dying Rift Town. Even the one shot by the barman wheezes out a feeble chuckle before breathing it's last.
All across Rift Town, they are laughing as they slaughter and kidnap the populace. In the marketplace Sakura, XC and Orion's meeting is cut short by the appearance of one of their airships overhead, dozens of them streaming down to attack and destroy. Marvin, Jake and Spears watch two of their attack vessels come crashing into the nearby slums, leaving wide paths of chaos and rubble in their wake.
The Collectors have arrived.
Rift Town comes under a surprise attack by the Collectors. The docks are destroyed, and the gas-masked attackers have taken to the streets in large numbers, slaughtering or kidnapping all in their path.
[size=+1]The Collectors.
I've travelled across a lot of this broken world and wherever I've gone, any time I've heard that term uttered it's been followed by shudders from all present.
And who can blame them? These... things are the fucking bogeymen of this land.
Let's put it this way. Bandits are scum. They are parasites and hyenas, preying upon those less fortunate than they are. But you can communicate with a bandit. You can reason with them. There's always the chance that when one of them's coming at you he'll listen when you ask for mercy.
Not so with the Collectors.
Whatever the fuck are underneath those masks are not capable of pity, of reason or remorse. You can't talk to them, you can't bribe or negotiate with them. To a Collector, every single fucking one of us are victims. It just depends on which type.
The first kind of victims are the ones they kill. They don't do it quickly, either; disembowelling, crucifixion, impaling. Mercy isn't something they understand, so when they descend upon a settlement you're in you best be ready to run like fuck or fight and give no mercy, because you sure as hell will be receiving none.
The second kind of victims are the ones from which the Collectors get their name. The ones they take and drag back to their metal airships for the Cycle alone knows what purpose. Now you might be thinking that this sounds like the better of the two. I mean, yeah sure, they don't brutally kill you. But think about everything you know about these guys. The masks. The killing. The complete lack of goddamn mercy. Do they really sound like the guys you want dragging you off to some place for whatever unpleasant purpose they have in mind?
No, didn't think so.
Now here they are in Rift Town, more of them than I've ever seen in one place. They're going to tear this place apart. The port will burn, and anyone who doesn't escape before is going to either die horribly or be collected.
But enough of that; I've got to get my act together before I get myself killed.
Snapping myself back to my senses, I take in the chaos unravelling around me. Acrid smoke lingers all around, the smell of burning buildings and cooked flesh. And blood. You can almost taste the shit in the very air itself, the stink of death. Already they're slaughtering the people of this town.
My time has just been cut even more short than I thought it would be. I need to find those mechanics; they'll have the tools and skills I need for what I'm about to attempt. I take off at a sprint, making for the Auto Repair Shop the old man told me about and hoping against hope that the old bastard's still okay, and that the Collectors haven't already reached my destination.
And you know what the worst part of all this is?
I think it's my fault they've come to this place.
I think they're here for me.
[/size]
I've travelled across a lot of this broken world and wherever I've gone, any time I've heard that term uttered it's been followed by shudders from all present.
And who can blame them? These... things are the fucking bogeymen of this land.
Let's put it this way. Bandits are scum. They are parasites and hyenas, preying upon those less fortunate than they are. But you can communicate with a bandit. You can reason with them. There's always the chance that when one of them's coming at you he'll listen when you ask for mercy.
Not so with the Collectors.
Whatever the fuck are underneath those masks are not capable of pity, of reason or remorse. You can't talk to them, you can't bribe or negotiate with them. To a Collector, every single fucking one of us are victims. It just depends on which type.
The first kind of victims are the ones they kill. They don't do it quickly, either; disembowelling, crucifixion, impaling. Mercy isn't something they understand, so when they descend upon a settlement you're in you best be ready to run like fuck or fight and give no mercy, because you sure as hell will be receiving none.
The second kind of victims are the ones from which the Collectors get their name. The ones they take and drag back to their metal airships for the Cycle alone knows what purpose. Now you might be thinking that this sounds like the better of the two. I mean, yeah sure, they don't brutally kill you. But think about everything you know about these guys. The masks. The killing. The complete lack of goddamn mercy. Do they really sound like the guys you want dragging you off to some place for whatever unpleasant purpose they have in mind?
No, didn't think so.
Now here they are in Rift Town, more of them than I've ever seen in one place. They're going to tear this place apart. The port will burn, and anyone who doesn't escape before is going to either die horribly or be collected.
But enough of that; I've got to get my act together before I get myself killed.
Snapping myself back to my senses, I take in the chaos unravelling around me. Acrid smoke lingers all around, the smell of burning buildings and cooked flesh. And blood. You can almost taste the shit in the very air itself, the stink of death. Already they're slaughtering the people of this town.
My time has just been cut even more short than I thought it would be. I need to find those mechanics; they'll have the tools and skills I need for what I'm about to attempt. I take off at a sprint, making for the Auto Repair Shop the old man told me about and hoping against hope that the old bastard's still okay, and that the Collectors haven't already reached my destination.
And you know what the worst part of all this is?
I think it's my fault they've come to this place.
I think they're here for me.
Aeolus has been anticipating something occurring, but nothing like a full-scale Collector attack. She makes for the Auto Repair Shop, hoping to find the owners before the Collectors reach them.